


Find Their Own Way

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [90]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Absence, M/M, Polyamory Where One Partner is Absent, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “Where have youbeen?” Bucky says, his face jammed against Tony’s neck. “Jesus, I’ve been waiting up for fucking hours.”





	Find Their Own Way

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts).

“Where have you _been_?” Bucky says, his face jammed against Tony’s neck. “Jesus, I’ve been waiting up for fucking hours.”

Tony would like to hug him--seems like the right thing to do--but Buck’s death grip has pinned Tony’s arms to his sides, so yeah. He’s just along for the ride.

“I called,” Tony says. “And sent like four texts. One was all just emojis.”

Bucky snorts. “Just because your phone is glued to your face doesn’t mean mine is.”

“But you knew I was on the way,” Tony says, tries to say, but he gets distracted by the warmth of Bucky’s body, the sweet smell of sweat at his temple, the ridiculous rose bush scent of his hair. So he lets Bucky herd him, lets himself be driven neatly into the nearest wall, the one next to the console table Steve picked out last fall.

Only when Tony can’t go anywhere, when he’s fully fenced in, does Bucky look up, does he let go of Tony’s body enough that Tony can touch him back, can run a hand through Bucky’s damp waves and slip the other up the line of his spine. Bucky leans in to those touches, greedy, and the planes of his face soften and slack.

“Missed you,” he says.

“Missed you, too.”

When they kiss, it’s electric, like always; like a sliver of lightning that lives only when their mouths touch. When Steve’s with them, it’s different--not better or worse, just another shade of affection. He’s the strongest of them, Steve, the most fervent, the most sure. When they’re together, he’s the foundation, the cure, the irrefutable proof that the two of them are worthy of love, of protection, of bliss. Steve makes them both feel safe when he’s with them, like there’s no way for them to fall. He’s a rock, a geological certainty, the first to say _I love you_ and the last, when he can, to come.

But when he’s not here and they are, there’s something more fragile about it, the energy that runs through them, runs through this. It’s more uncertain, sometimes, more desperate; as much about reassurance as it is about sex. Tony loves Bucky, knows Bucky loves him, but without Steve there to say it for them, to guide them, to show them, they have to find their own way.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, a month since they’ve seen him. Doesn’t help with the whole desperation thing.

Tony catches hold of Bucky’s ass, those glorious curves, and when he squeezes, Bucky arches and presses himself as close as he can; moans just a little, does Buck, just enough to make his tongue flutter where it brushes over Tony’s own.

There’ll be time for finesse later, for stretching Bucky out across the sheets and kissing every inch of him, for Tony to drown his hands in the feel of that rough, beloved flesh, for him to ease Bucky open with eager fingers and sink into him too soon, before he’s really ready, the way that makes Bucky wince even as he hollers with joy. Steve won’t take him like that, won’t fuck either of them until he’s sure it won’t hurt, and Tony understands why: Steve’s a caretaker, sees them both as his responsibility, people he loves to protect, and as much as he wants Steve to be impatient sometimes, for Steve to get so hot that he stops messing around with his fingers or his tongue and instead make Tony take his dick, he loves that about Steve, too: how goddamned determined he is that neither of them will ever be hurt again. Not on his watch. Never again.

So when they’re alone, they give each other what Steve can’t. They’re a little too rough, a little too anxious to get to the good stuff; unwilling, sometimes, to behave themselves and wait. Steve would never attack Tony at the front door; Steve would never unzip Bucky’s jeans and get a hand around him in the front hall; Steve would never fuck Tony’s fist like a horny kid who hadn’t gotten his rocks off in days, would never wind his fingers in Tony’s collar and lick at Tony’s lips and whine so loud anybody passing by in the hallway can hear.

“Did you save all of this for me?” Tony gets out. “Did you keep your hands away from this pretty cock all this time so you could give it to me?”

Bucky chokes out a laugh. “Hell no. Gave it up to the sheets every night. Sometimes to the shower.” He curls a hand over Tony’s shoulder and digs his nails in, kicks his hips hard. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you inside me, Tony. Made me so fucking hot.”

Tony kisses him hard, because he can. Because there’s no way he can’t. “Yeah? Is that what you want?”

He can feel Buck twitch in his fist, the sudden swell, the shudder that runs through Bucky’s mouth. “God, yes,” he breathes. “Please. Want it. I want you.”

There’s a fire in Tony’s head now, a greedy nonsensical flame. “Maybe,” he spits, “I should fuck you right here. Shove you over this table and spank your ass and take back what’s mine.”

Bucky’s whole body tenses. It’s like stroking the edge of a knife. “Oh, _fuck_. Fuck. God, Tony, I--”

“Ask me,” Tony says, vicious, and shit, he’s hard, the line of heat and anxious weight almost too much to bear. “Ask me for what you want, baby.”

Bucky’s voice trembles, a beautiful, delicate thing, all the muscles and the power in that body be damned. “Fuck me,” Bucky whispers. “Give me your cock, Tony, I need it, I--”

He slips a thumb under Bucky’s waistband and brushes the clench of his ass and Bucky lights up and loses it everywhere, a series of silent, hot jerks. The air fills with his pleasure--the smell of it, the sound--and he’s so goddamn beautiful that it makes Tony’s heart roar, makes it clench.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says when he can breathe again, think.

Bucky’s eye pry open and he smiles, that big, take-no-shit grin that Tony first fell in love with. “You’re only saying that because your dick is still hard.”

“Pfffft.” Tony takes a kiss, then another, cups his hands around Bucky’s hips. “No. That’s not why. And you know it.”

Bucky’s arms wind around his neck, settle, and then they’re kissing again, slower now, deeper, almost covetous.

“I really did miss you,” Bucky says after a while. “So damn much.”

Tony smiles, feeling sloppy and sweet. “Here’s the thing, Buck,” he murmurs. “I missed you, too.”


End file.
